


in a word (fight)

by lost_n_stereo



Series: the darkest fairytale in the dead of night [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon verse, F/M, broody bellamy, mentions of gina/octavia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 22:06:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6677221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_n_stereo/pseuds/lost_n_stereo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon verse. Post 3x03.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in a word (fight)

_Alone._

Karma has finally beaten him.

 _Took you long enough, you stupid bitch_ , he thinks as he pours himself another drink. One for every loss. One for every life he has taken. One for every life that has been taken from him. Plus one more for good luck.

Karma can come and take him away if she thinks she can handle him.

_Wrecked._

He stares into the bottom of a glass and muses over the fact that every woman in his life is gone, in one way or another.

One that he loves more than life itself. Another he can’t live without. And one who’s eyes promised a life worth living.

Sometimes he thinks that one or more may be all three at the same time but he’s drunk and lost count.

What’s the point of living if he can’t keep them all? Death would be a welcome reprieve from the pain, a breath of fresh air in an otherwise toxic world. He has to fight, it’s what they all wanted, but his heart isn’t in it.

His heart is split evenly between a lost soul looking for a home, a city he never wants to see again and finally, buried under the rubble of a mountain.

_Exhausted._

Sleep never comes, no matter how hard he tries.

He grasps at straws in the middle of the night, clutching the sheets where a possible future used to lay. Phantom locks of brown hair cover the pillow next to his and he screams silently into the still night of this metal coffin.

But when he does sleep, the straws are golden and fine, and he imagines a different future. One where he stands beside her, a queen in her own right, and the one second of pure joy that he feels when she casts her gaze upon him forces him awake.

Back to reality. Back to nothingness. Back to loneliness.

_Impossible._

The odds are against him.

There are only so many hits a man can take, so many times his heart can be divided. How can he fight with the weight of loss on his shoulders? How can he be the hero?

Does he even want to be?

No matter the conflicted feelings in his head there is, above all else, a job to do. So he does what he knows is right. What _she_ would have wanted.

He soldiers on.


End file.
